Alexander the Great, we are told, being upon his deathbed, commanded that, when he was carried forth to the grave, his hands should not be wrapped, as was usual, in the cereloths, but should be left outside the bier, so that all men might see them, and might see that they were empty; that there was nothing in them; that he, born to one empire, and the conqueror of another; the possessor while he lived, of two worlds, of the East, and of the West, and of the treasures of both, yet now when he was dead could retain not even the smallest portion of these treasures; that in this matter the poorest beggar and he were at length upon equal terms.
If we live for this world, we shall go out of it empty-handed, but if we live for the next world we shall depart full-handed, "rich in faith" and soon to enter upon an eternal inheritance.

Jim’s Prayer

The story is told of a certain priest who was disturbed to see a shabbily dressed old man go into his church at noon every day and come out again after a few minutes. What could he be doing? He informed the caretaker and asked him to question the old man. After all, the place contained valuable furnishings.
"I go to pray," the man said in reply to the caretaker’s questioning.
"Come, come now," said the other, "you are never long enough in the church to pray."
"Well, you see," the old man went on, "I don’t know how to pray a long prayer, but every day at twelve o’clock I just come and say, ‘Jesus, it’s Jim.’ I wait a minute and then come away. Even though it’s just a little prayer, I think He hears me."

When Jim was injured some time later and taken to the hospital, he had a wonderful influence on the ward. Grumbling patients became cheerful and often the ward would ring with laughter.
"Well, Jim," said a nurse to him one day, "the men say you are responsible for this change in the ward. They say you are always happy."
"Aye, that I am. I can’t help being happy. You see, it’s my Visitor. Every day He makes me happy."
"Your visitor?" The nurse was puzzled. She had noticed that Jim’s chair was always empty during visiting hours, for he was a lonely man, with no relatives. "Your visitor? But when does he come?"
"Every day," Jim replied, with a light in his eye. "Yes, every day at twelve o’clock He comes and stands at the foot of my bed. I see Him and He smiles and says, ‘Jim, it’s Jesus.’"

* * * *

The above story is a rather wellknown Christian anecdote you might say, but we, the webmaster— being familiar with "the story of Jim as related above, were very encouraged by the following update to it, sent to us by a friend of ours (yours truly the webmaker), who is a missionary in Thailand. He wrote us, telling us the following amazing account:

"We met a Scottish man who works here in Thailand. He received Jesus and invited us to his house for dinner. Since his name was Jimmy, we started telling him the story of "Jesus, it ’s Jim!"—about the old man who went to the church every day to pray. He interrupted us to say, that he knew the story very well; in fact, it had happened near where he lived in Scotland.
The name of the old man in question was Jimmy Meekan, he said. Our friend said he knew the cardinal who had officiated at Jimmy’s funeral. He added this fascinating conclusion to the story, stating that he personally knew many witnesses, including the cardinal, who would swear on a Bible that this incident truly happened.

While Jim was seriously ill in the hospital, the doctors who were familiar with his condition were amazed at how cheerful he was and how he continually tried to cheer up the other patients. However, when Jim gave the explanation that Jesus came to daily visit him, many scoffed.
But at his funeral, while the mourners stood about his coffin, they were astonished to suddenly hear a loud voice, as it were from the sky, saying, "Jim, it’s Me, Jesus!"

TIDBITS ON HEAVEN

What Color?

Gypsy Rodney Smith, preaching at Dallas, Texas, had a petition from coloured ministers asking for a meeting exclusively for blacks. They came in thousands. There was a good deal of punctuating of his address with 'Hallelujahs' and 'Amens.' Suddenly an aged coloured woman called out, 'Gypsy Smith, may I ask a question?'
Looking at her, he said, 'Certainly, my sister, what is it?'
'What colour are we going to be when we get to Heaven? Shall we be white or black?' Everybody was waiting breathlessly for the answer.
'My dear sister, we are going to be just like Christ,' replied Gypsy Smith. And 'Amen' rang out all over the hall.

Talk About Heaven

Charles E. Fuller once announced that he would be speaking the following Sunday on "Heaven." During that week a beautiful letter was received from an old man who was very ill. The following is part of his letter:
"Next Sunday you are to talk about Heaven. I am interested in that land, because I have held a clear title to a bit of property there for over fifty-five years. I did not buy it. It was given to me without money and without price. But the Donor purchased it for me at tremendous sacrifice. I am not holding it for speculation since the title is not transferable. It is not a vacant lot.
"For more than half a century I have been sending materials out of which the greatest Architect and Builder of the Universe has been building a home for me which will never need to be remodelled nor repaired because it will suit me perfectly, individually, and will never grow old.
"Termites can never undermine its foundations for they rest on the Rock of Ages. Fire cannot destroy it. Floods cannot wash it away. No locks nor bolts will ever be placed upon its doors, for no vicious person can ever enter that land where my dwelling stands, now almost completed and almost ready for me to enter in and abide in peace eternally, without fear of being ejected.
"There is a valley of deep shadow between the place where I live in California and that to which I shall journey in a very short time. I cannot reach my home in that City of Gold without passing through this dark valley of shadows. But I am not afraid because the best Friend I ever had went through the same valley long, long ago and drove away all its gloom. He has stuck by me through thick and thin, since we first became acquainted fifty-five years ago, and I hold His promise in printed form, never to forsake me or leave me alone. He will be with me as I walk through the valley of shadows, and I shall not lose my way when He is with me.
"I hope to hear your sermon on Heaven next Sunday from my home in Los Angeles, California, but I have no assurance that I shall be able to do so. My ticket to Heaven has no date marked for the journey-no return coupon-and no permit for baggage. Yes, I am all ready to go and I may not be here while you are talking next Sunday evening, but I shall meet you there some day."

The Results Are In … And We Are Not Happy

The Baltic TimesProfessor Ruut Veenhoven of Erasmus University in the Netherlands has compiled a world database of happiness, measuring life expectancy against subjective life appreciation in 48 industrialized nations. Sadly, residents of the Baltic states scored among the least cheerful--and they can't blame it on the long, dark winters. Iceland ranked the happiest.
"At least we beat Russia," one Latvian said. "That's all that matters."

It was the German religious reformer Martin Luther who said, "If you're not allowed to laugh in Heaven, I don't want to go there."

Did you hear the one about …?

Did you hear the one about the rabbi, the minister and the priest who went fishing? When the fish were not biting, the rabbi and the priest got out of the boat and walked across the water to find a good spot.
The minister, too, got out of the boat, but each time he started to sink and had to clamber back on board.
"Do you think that we should tell him where the rocks are?" the priest finally said to the rabbi.

Or how about the story of the older Baptist woman who walked into a Methodist church one Sunday? The pastor asked her why she was a Baptist, and she replied that it was because her parents and grandparents had been Baptists.
"Ma'am, that's really not a good reason to be a Baptist," the preacher said. "Suppose your mother and your father, and your grandmother and your grandfather had been morons, what would you have been?"
Without batting an eye, she replied, "I guess I'd have been a Methodist."